Trust Me
by FanzelForever
Summary: "Rick's voice startled her, and that little jolt was enough to start the tears falling..." Takes place during the S4-S5 hiatus. Rick comes to pick Kate up for their first 'official date,' but the evening doesn't quite turn out as planned. Mostly some really mushy Caskett-ness with large amounts of cuddling. Oneshot for now, but will be expanded eventually.


[Author's Note/Disclaimer: I've had this sitting around forever, and I finally decided it was worth publishing. Right now it's a oneshot, but I will continue it eventually (like maybe when I actually finish my current WIP). Anyway, hope you all enjoy. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and—as always—I don't own them.]

[Author's Note (Update): So, I've changed this in the description now, but (as pointed out by a very wise anon) anyone who knows my writing knows that you should absolutely never, ever believe me when I describe my own piece as 'fluffy.' I am not lying, per se, but my definition of 'fluffy' is very, very skewed. That is all. Have fun probably crying. Sorry, not sorry.]

"Kate?" his voice was hesitant- more nervous than the last four times.

She took a slow, deep breath to make sure her voice would be steady and answered, "Castle, I'm serious. Just go away." She feigned exasperation well.

But he could read her better than she could fake it. "That's what you've been telling me for over an hour, and yet you're still in there. Kate, what's going on?"

"Castle," she started sharply, ready to tell him off once again. But suddenly she felt her throat tighten. "Castle… please," she finished quietly. He barely heard her through the thick wood of her bedroom door.

"Kate," he said, softening. "Come on…" All at once her breathing felt shallow, and Kate could feel hot tears in her eyes, making them itch. She tilted her head back and tried desperately to blink them away, angry with herself for being weak enough to cry over something so small. She'd said it herself during therapy a few months back: she didn't have the time or the energy to spend getting this worked up over something this nonsensical. Or maybe she just had too much pride. It was all too confusing, and she could tell from the way her thoughts were spinning out of control that she was inevitably going to find herself back in Dr. Burke's office before the week was out.

"Please." Rick's voice startled her, and that little jolt was enough to start the tears falling. After holding them back for so long, they rolled down her cheeks in what felt like a tidal wave, smearing makeup and staining her skin with it as they fell. "Please, Kate, just let me in."

It was now just over an hour and a half ago that Rick had come to pick Kate up for their first 'official date,' and in that time Kate had not once opened the door of her bedroom. This was his fifth attempt at a through-the-door conversation, but he could hear in Kate's voice that it was not going the way he wanted it to. At all.

Just as he was about to start begging again, he heard a very quiet- but distinctly _Kate_- noise from the other side of the door. He was pretty sure it had been meant to be a word before it turned into more of a choking sound. "Castle." He heard his name spoken as something nearing a whimper and couldn't help but think what a disconcerting sound it was coming from Kate Beckett. Her breathing faltered. "Castle, you can't… I don't know… I- Castle, I don't… I can't."

That was enough for him. Though she would probably never admit it to him, Rick knew that Kate still had flashbacks and panic attacks from time to time when things struck her in just the right- or, rather, just the wrong way. In the year since her shooting, Rick had made it one of his greatest missions to learn anything and everything he could about PTSD so that he could help her as much as possible. And, needless to say, he was now more than capable of figuring out when she was about to have a panic attack. A lot of times it happened when they were alone in the bullpen late at night, and she had been staring at the murder board for far too long. It was as if he could actually see something snap inside her; her breathing would catch a bit, and she would quickly excuse herself, disappearing into the bathroom for a quarter hour or so. He had never pushed her about it. He would simply wait patiently and greet her at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee and a comment that he'd gone for decaf because 'it seems a little late for more caffeine'. Telling her without telling her that she didn't really have to hide from him if she didn't want to. But he understood that part, too: avoidance and withdrawal, they called it. But he'd always believed that someday she would be ready to stop running from him.

And that day had finally come. Mostly. Except now he was on the other side of Kate's bedroom door as he heard that little hitch in her breathing that he knew all too well, and he thought about seemingly insignificant objects or events triggering panic attacks and/or re-experiences. Cautiously, he pushed open the door.

Kate was not there. His first instinct was to check the bathroom, in which Kate also was not. It was as he walked back out of the bathroom that he saw her. She had wedged herself into the corner between the bookcase and the wall and was covering her ears with her palms. He couldn't say for certain, but it crossed his mind that she was making things worse for herself by so obviously (and unnecessarily) trying not to cry.

Rick knelt in front of her and reached out slowly to rest a hand on her knee, which was barely peeking out from the bottom of her turquoise bathrobe. She made a soft squeaking noise. Wanting to at least get her off the floor, Rick reached out and wrapped his right hand around Kate's waist. Kate screamed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to- I just- I'm so sorry, Kate," Rick backpedaled after quickly pulling his hand away. Cautiously removing trembling hands from her ears, Kate looked up at him with horror-stricken eyes.

There was a long pause, as it seemed Kate had to think very hard about forming the words she was trying to say. "The scar sometimes hurts when I get stressed."

Rick nodded, reaching this time for her right side. She let him lift her to her feet and sat with him, somewhat hesitantly, on the edge of the bed. "And what happened that made you stressed?" he asked encouragingly. She blanched, and Rick felt through the mattress that the rest of her body had caught up to those delicate-looking hands and started to tremble—violently.

"It's stupid, Castle. It's so stupid," she told him. She would have sounded convincing if he couldn't see her eyes filling up with tears again. Rick rested a hand lightly on her back and gave her a moment to adjust to the contact and relax. It was a trick he'd learned very quickly. He knew that Kate trusted him, but she still wasn't too used to having anyone as close to her- physically or emotionally- as she was suddenly allowing him to be. And while she accepted contact with him pretty readily, it was very important not to take things too quickly.

"If it can make you so upset that you hide from me for an hour, it's not stupid to me," Rick answered her honestly.

She shot up off the bed. "But it is!" she shrieked. "Something this tiny and ridiculous shouldn't make me this upset! I should not be crying, and I especially should not be crying _in front of anyone_. When did I become this weak, Castle?!" She paused for a split second after her tirade before turning and bolting from the room.

As always, Rick went after her. When he entered the living room he followed Kate's unfocused stare out the window at what he assumed to be the reflection of the rotating light on an adjacent building's lightning rod flashing in the windows of the building across the street. He closed the blinds before he came to sit down next to her on the couch. "It's nothing," Kate mumbled bitterly. "There's no reason for it to bother me."

"But tonight it did," Rick prompted.

"It's like I've turned into one of those girls whose whole life revolves around trying to look perfect all the time," muttered Kate.

"What do you mean?"

"Would you believe me if I told you this all started because of some makeup?" Kate asked. At Rick's puzzled expression, she continued: "I mean, it wasn't actually about the makeup itself: it's just that that was sort of why… Because I can't- You aren't supposed to- I mean, obviously you already have, but… It's different, and it wouldn't just be you: it would be everyone, and I can't… Castle, I can't," she finished, and she finally looked up and into Rick's eyes.

"I think I know where you're going," he told her as gently as he could, "but I don't want to guess this time. Will you start from the beginning?"

Kate spent a long minute silently picking at a tiny scab on her hand before launching into the story. "It was probably stupid, but I was going to wear that dress from the book release party for _Heat Wave_. It seemed fitting or something, and I knew you liked it… But, um… It's really low-cut and everything… I haven't put on anything like that since…" She didn't say it. She just fidgeted in her spot on the couch until Rick nodded and placed his hand on her back to rub tiny circles into her shoulder blade with his thumb. "It's so stupid, Castle. I don't even want to say it."

"Come on," Rick prompted. "You know that anything you don't tell me I will figure out with my uncanny observational skills."

Kate shot him a look—albeit a weak one—but continued quietly. "It's just that whenever I'm going to wear something that might show the bullet scar, I have this really thick concealer that I put over it because that's the only stuff I don't worry about it showing through, but I left it in my gym bag, and I left the gym bag in my locker down in the basement of the precinct, and, I mean, I shouldn't care if it shows because it's just a scar, but I do, and I hate it, and I don't want the whole world to be able to see how broken and… and _damaged_ I am. I don't want you to see that… And I know you've already seen the scars, but it was always in the dark. It's different when it's bright, and you can see it clearly. And at the same time, why does it matter? You already know what a mess I am, and you know that I'm really just pathetic, even if you don't choose to write it that way, but I just started staring at the scar, and I knew I didn't have a way to hide it, and… I don't know what happened."

Kate buried her face in her hands, and Rick felt her whole body heave with silent sobs. Sliding off the couch, Rick knelt in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. "Kate, look at me." At length, she did. "I get it," he told her. "Maybe you think it sounds ridiculous, but that makes a lot of sense to me."

"It feels huge to me," Kate continued, the truth now coming out in a rush. "It used to be I couldn't look at it without reliving the whole thing… Most of the time I can do it now, but it's still the only thing I see when I look at myself." She shook her head, asking bitterly, "Since when am I this shallow?"

"I don't think it's shallow, Kate: I think it's completely natural." His mind flashed back to a long-ago conversation with his mother about women trying to cover up perceived flaws with clothes and makeup. He couldn't help but draw a few parallels. "It makes sense," Rick continued. "To you, it seems huge—overwhelmingly huge—because just looking at it can make you fall apart completely. And for you it symbolizes the time in your life when you were the most vulnerable and the least independent. Not wanting to show that to the rest of the world makes complete sense to me."

At that, Kate almost managed a smile. "I thought it didn't bother me that much, and then I started thinking about how many people would see it tonight if I couldn't cover it up, and it just…" She shook her head and looked away from Rick, obviously trying to hide the tears that were again threatening to spill over. "It makes me feel ugly. And I'm confused because I never used to think of myself as being pretty or ugly- I just _was_, and it was fine, and it didn't matter. And then you came along, and for the first time since my mom died, I started feeling like I cared a little bit about it again." She blushed a deep red but continued. "And then they went and put a bullet in my chest, and, yes, I should just shut up and be happy that I'm even alive, but… You deserve a woman who is beautiful, and if I ever was, I'm not anymore because I'm covered in giant, disgusting scars."

Kate leaned forward to cover her face again, but Rick caught her up and rose a bit to let her head rest on his shoulder instead. Slowly, he adjusted them so that he was once again seated on the couch and Kate was tucked into his side. "I spent a year trying to figure out how to get better and make myself good enough for you, and it's like tonight I finally realized that it's never going to happen." Rick felt a tear trickle down the side of his neck.

"Kate," he said firmly as he began rubbing smooth, gentle lines up and down her back, "you've always been way too good for me. Nothing's changed. Somebody making an attempt on your life doesn't make you any less extraordinary—in fact, I'd say it makes you even more impressive than you already were."

"What about PTSD?" Kate demanded, fighting to get out of his arms. Rick held her tighter. "What about the fact that the sirens in my own car make me so tense I can barely steer? What about the fact that when I open the blinds in the morning I flinch at _sunlight_? Or the fact that I can no longer de-stress by going down to the shooting range because without enough adrenaline in me, I still can't deal with the sound of gunshots? And if all of that isn't enough, what about the fact that I'm a weak, pathetic _liar!_ I'm a wreck, Castle. You just don't want to see it." She gave up fighting, and collapsed against his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Rick rested one hand protectively in the middle of her back and used his other hand to cradle her side, brushing his thumb back and forth across her hipbone. "You're not a wreck. Yes, you are damaged- there's no use in either of us pretending that's not true. But the thing is, Kate, everybody's damaged." He slid his hands a bit further around her, holding her as close as he could, trying even with his touch to get through to her. "I failed two marriages; I very nearly failed the majority of grade levels in school. I'm short one parent, too. Oh, and there was this one time I watched this woman I love die while I held her hand, which was only _after_ the time I held her while she blacked out from hypothermia…" He paused for a beat, which made Kate look up at him, just as he'd planned. "You think all that hasn't left me pretty damaged? Heck, I once streaked through Central Park on a stolen police horse! If that doesn't say 'damaged,' I don't know what does."

Kate laughed and twisted a few inches in Rick's arms to give him a weak but well-meant hug. "And as for this?" Rick added, pulling the bathrobe open a few inches to reveal the circle of puckered skin. "I find this absolutely beautiful."

"Just don't, Castle," Kate told him harshly. She resumed trying to escape from his lap. "I know you're just lying for my sake."

"I'm not!" he told her firmly. "Kate, it really is beautiful. You just have to learn to look at it in the right way." Kate looked at him skeptically. "Really. See, right now you look at it as a symbol of weakness, but that's not it at all. It's really a permanent badge of honor! I mean, come on, you hunt vicious killers for a living: what better badge of honor could they give you than a permanent symbol of your uncanny ability to cheat death?! It's brilliant!"

Rick watched as Kate tried hard to smile but mostly failed, then proceeded to pull the bathrobe closed again, and he knew that a change of tactics was in order. "No…" she fairly whimpered when he moved to open the neckline of the bathrobe once more.

"Please trust me," Rick implored, and Kate released her grip on his hands with trembling fingers. "Good. Now, trust me when I tell you that this," he brushed his thumb softly over the small scar, "is beautiful." At his words, the tremble spread outward from Kate's fingers and into her whole body. She rubbed furiously at the fresh tears that were making their way down her cheeks. "You don't have to believe it for yourself just yet—that will come, Kate, but I don't expect it to come tonight. Right now, just trust me when I tell you that you will never be anything but beautiful to me." Another pass over the scar with his thumb. "Trust me when I tell you that this is not the first thing—and certainly not the only thing—I see when I look at you. But also trust me when I tell you that I don't find it ugly. It's beautiful. It's a part of you, and it's so beautiful to me." With that, he leaned down carefully to replace his thumb with his lips and pressed a long, gentle, mindful kiss to Kate's scar- _their_ scar. Slowly, he sat up again and met Kate's eyes. "Trust me."


End file.
